Defeat
by Elizabeth Stuart
Summary: The Rebels are defeated and Luke becomes the object of Palpatine's manipulations and fantasies. AU. Violence, angst, sexualslash references.


**Originally published in The Rest of the Garbage, 1995**

_Warning: Violence, sexual inferences_

**Defeat**

**by Elizabeth Stuart**

**Luke**

The Rebellion was over, defeated in a stunning show of firepower from the half-finished Death Star. And now here they were, rounded up like so many errant head of cattle, arrayed on the vast deck of an enormous destroyer. Waiting for the Emperor to peer at them in victorious glee. Waiting to be shipped off for lives of slavery-- and for some of them, waiting for their executions.

Luke stared straight ahead, unseeing. The rows of defeated troops surrounded him, but he noticed nothing. Han and Leia, both exhausted but on their feet, waited beside him, ready to face the death they knew to be inevitable. The small, tightly-knit group of six friends was still clinging together; Chewie, Wedge, and Lando pressed close. He was aware of their presence in the Force, but couldn't bring himself to acknowledge them. Everything that had happened was his fault. They must realize it as he did, but no one had even hinted at blame.

If only he had obeyed his teachers and gone to meet Darth Vader. But he had resisted the confrontation, too reluctant to follow a fate that told him he must kill his own father. In the end, torn by the conflict between his destiny and his emotional hunger, he could not do it. On Endor's moon, they had been unable to shut down the force field generator, and the ships of the Alliance fleet had either been destroyed or captured. He had failed his friends. Worse, he had failed the Rebellion. Ben and Yoda, wherever they were, must be so disappointed in him.

Luke fingered the lightsaber that was secreted in the folds of his clothing, wondering that he'd been allowed to keep it. Maybe lightsabers didn't show up on the security scans that the stormtroopers had sent them through-- or maybe no one cared about such an antiquated weapon. The third alternative was too disquieting to consider at length: the Emperor was expecting him.

Perhaps instead it was a sign that it wasn't too late to face his destiny. That the Emperor, not his father, was the one he had to confront. Even if he tried and failed, at the very least he would die heroically and not have to face the coming humiliations.

Yet... his father's words echoed through the intervening years. _We can end this destructive conflict and bring order... together we can rule the galaxy as father and son._

Was that still possible?

A large, elegant shuttle swooped gracefully into the bay to make an academy-perfect landing. The capitulation ceremony would be, Luke conceded reluctantly, an impressive sight. Flanking the center of the wide dock were hundreds of stormtroopers in gleaming white armor, behind them hundreds more weaponless rebels, wrists bound in metal, humbled, angry, frightened. The bottom door of the shuttle lowered with a hiss of hydraulics. Accompanied by puffs of condensate, Imperial Guards cloaked in majestic red marched out to flank the ramp. After a pause, a grey hooded figure moved slowly down the incline, leaning heavily on a gnarled cane. Compared to the glory of the Imp Guards, the old wizard was a disappointing sight, but to Luke's sensitive feelings, it seemed as though Evil descended with the man.

The Emperor Palpatine.

Following him strode a powerful figure totally swathed in black, in appearance more intimidating by far than the old man he obeyed. The sight sent Luke's emotions spinning out of control. _Father!_ A faint rumble passed through the ranks of rebels. He sensed their anger was focused more toward Vader than at the Emperor, but it was to be expected. Darth Vader had always been their visible enemy, the Emperor merely a vague figure of sovereignty. And the Emperor looked so small and withered, so aged and harmless. Until he halted in front of Admiral Ackbar and spoke.

"Aaaah, how delightful!" The unexpected exclamation echoed through the high ceiling of the bay. The words were gentle but the tone radiated indescribable wickedness.

Luke knew he wasn't the only one who could feel it. He tried to dampen his reactions and disappear into the turmoil of the crowd's thoughts. The Emperor's Force was powerful enough to affect even the most insensitive of his captives; to a Jedi it was agony. How did his father bear it?

"I am pleased to meet so many of my recalcitrant subjects at last." The Emperor touched Ackbar's shoulder, directing him to walk alongside, as though out for an afternoon stroll through a political rally. "I am moved that you have all gathered to meet me." He stopped and bestowed a gracious smile on their ranks. His horribly wrinkled face was barely visible beneath the hood's shadow, but his eyes gleamed like a feral predator on the hunt. Behind him, Lord Vader loomed silently, a darkly ominous thundercloud.

"Welcome back to the bosom of the Empire, my children. It gratifies me that you have decided to return to your spiritual father."

Luke flinched, struggling to block the foul vibrations that emanated from the elderly man. Beside him, Leia muttered something in a scathing tone. He looked at her. The eyes that turned to him were filled with grief and deep fury.

"And what's this-- a surprise?" The Emperor's voice echoed through the eerie stillness that had settled over the throng. "Admiral, how thoughtful of you to include my grandchild in this small welcoming committee! I am most pleased."

Ackbar's lips flapped, huge round eyes blinking. "I am sorry, Your Excellency, I am not sure to whom you are referring. I don't know-- "

"You don't know him? Well, why should you-- with so many troops at your command, why would you single out the Emperor's grandson? The laugh was maniacal in its intensity.

Luke felt icy fingers of foreboding creep along his spine, and he squeezed his eyes closed until all he saw were flashes of red light against his lids. Through his tightly-protected Force, he felt his father trying to reach him. He blocked harder, fighting against this feeling dread. Ben had lied to him about his father, but surely it wasn't possible that the Emperor-- ?

_Please, no. Oh, please, please--no._

He opened his eyes.

Palpatine continued, seemingly oblivious to the uneasy stirring in the crowd. "Still, it perplexes me. Surely you should know the only son of my only son." He gestured to the black-cloaked shadow that towered behind him. "Lord Vader, this must be a pleasant surprise for you also. It has been quite some time, has it not, since you visited with your offspring."

Murmurs of outrage erupted from the crowd. Leia, Han, Lando-- they were among those who tottered on the threshold of violence. Luke tried to close the feelings out, but still they came. _Vader, son of the Emperor? Vader the Beast has a son? With us? Grandson of the Emperor? Who is the traitor find him seek him out kill him he has betrayed us-- _

_He betrayed us._

Luke blinked. He was too numb to deeply feel the flow. First had come the revelation about his father, then the Dark Lords of the Sith, now his grandfather-- would this legacy of darkness never end? _Why me? Why should I be punished, what have I done to deserve this?_

The immediate reaction of selfishness sent shame slamming into him. Through his pocket, he touched his lightsaber. It could be more than a talisman today-- with it, could he slay the Emperor? Whether he survived the confrontation didn't matter, but if he could rid the galaxy of this monster--

His kin, his heritage. The monster from whose loins had sprung his own father. Who had in his turn become a monster. And now, here he was, Luke Skywalker, the only son of the only son-- it would not happen to him. He would die willingly before he would yield to the Dark.

He lifted his chin. The Emperor was turning away, pacing across the bay with Ackbar by his side. It was with a start of surprise that he realized the Emperor couldn't sense his location. His father could; his father knew exactly where he was-- but wouldn't betray him. The Good was still strong in his father; he could feel it reaching out to him.

The Emperor halted and raised his voice to address the prisoners. "Dear rebels, not one of you knows my grandson? None of you realized that the Son of Vader, the Grandson of Palpatine, lived among you? Indeed, stands among you at this very moment?"

There was much shifting in the crowd as consternation became like a living entity. Luke felt the edges of anger jabbing at his hard-held control, and his breathing became ragged.

"So. You have worked shoulder-to-shoulder with the future Emperor." The current Emperor's tones were honeyed and false. "You have shared your food and your lives and your secrets with the youngest Dark Lord of the Sith and never knew his true identity." The cackle brimmed with malevolent pleasure. "Your cause was doomed from the moment he joined you. Fools!"

The murmuring grew. Now agitation joined the general air of humiliated rage. Leia clutched his sleeve. "Luke, can you sense who the traitor is? Or is the Emperor lying to us? It can't be true!"

Luke looked helplessly at her. Raised his eyes and looked at Han. He turned back to the Emperor, panic strangling the words in his throat. he was being forced into a trap that had no escape.

"A Dark Lord of the Sith?" Han hissed. "I thought they were just a... a crazy legend. I thought Vader was-- shit, I figured he took the title to scare everybody. But it's a line, a family-- a family of devils!"

"Sweet gods," Lando muttered, "if this is true, how could someone like that be around us and we haven't known?"

"What about Tar Sabat?" Wedge leaned over and whispered. "He's crazy, we all know it. We should have booted him out years ago-- he's betrayed us!"

The Emperor's dulcet tones over-road all the speculation. "I grow impatient, Admiral Ackbar. Give me my Sith child now or I will be forced to strike down all your troops in order to leave him standing."

Horror swept the room as it did Luke's heart. He no longer had the luxury of inaction. Deciding, he used the Force to release his wrists. The binders fell to the floor with a loud rattle. He grasped his lightsaber and pulled it free. Heard Leia's gasp. She grabbed his arm.

"Luke, no! You'll be killed! Let the Emperor do what he can-- we'll survive! Han, stop him!"

Everyone near him was turning to stare, eyes widening as they saw the hilt of the saber in his hand. Heads shaking, fear in so many hearts that he could block the feeling of doom those emotions raised inside him. _Fear comes from the Dark Side._

"Hey, kid, take it easy. Don't let that old bastard's threats get to you. We'll be-- "

Luke stopped Han with a raised hand. Met the brown eyes, then looked at Lando, Chewie, Wedge, and finally Leia. Memorized their faces. He would take their images with him into Eternity. "I am so sorry," he whispered. He wanted to touch Leia, to press a gentle kiss on her cheek-- but in a few seconds, she would know his true identity and shrink from the remembrance of his touch.

At least he had spared her the same pain. She would never know-- and neither would anyone else, ever-- that she shared his hellish heritage.

"Luke-- no!"

He pushed through the crowd and strode into the empty center of the bay. Wary of the stormtroopers, it was an unpleasant surprise when not one of them lifted a weapon to bar his passage. It was as if his appearance had been anticipated. He stopped, legs spread wide in classic defense stance, lightsaber at the ready. Proudly defiant. "I am here, Grandfather," he called clearly.

The noise level in the bay rose to scorch the walls with its rage. Above all the angry repetitions of _Skywalker, it's Skywalker!_ he heard Leia's horrified exclamation of denial. Then he closed off the sounds, cutting his friends out of his thoughts. He needed to focus on the Emperor now, the man who was coming across the dock toward him, one hideous hand outstretched in sickening welcome.

Unable to repress his instinctive fear, Luke took a single step backwards, then berated himself for showing weakness. Beyond the Emperor's head, he saw his father, and their gazes locked. He let his feelings fly. _Father, help me!_

_Strength, my son. You can live through this. Come and be one with us._

"Ah. Father and son reunion." The cackling laughter silenced the last of the protesters in the crowd. "How touching."

Luke ignited his lightsaber and held it crosswise in front of his body. His pulse sounded loudly in his ears-- could Palpatine hear it?

"And how amusing," the Emperor continued, ignoring the saber as if it were no threat to him. "A feisty little brat you've sired, wouldn't you agree, Lord Vader?"

"Yes, my master."

The tones pierced Luke's heart. He'd heard them to often in his dreams. He looked at his father, pleading silently for the resurrection of the Good he knew still existed.

One shriveled finger reached for him. He was paralyzed with horror by the sight, unable to react. It brushed his cheek, and he was contaminated by the corruption in that touch. When it was withdrawn, the spell was shattered and he backed away, brandishing the saber between them. It whistled with energy as it cut through the air, a fraction too late to cleave the old man.

His grandfather laughed. And what are you planning to do with your small toy, Luke? Are you so eager for the Emperor's throne? Remember, it is your father who is my successor. You would have to destroy him also-- you should have done it already, but you can't. And now you have to live with your failure... and does the galaxy."

Behind the Emperor, Vader ignited his great ruby blade in defense of his master. Luke trembled inside, but drew himself up to his full height. "I will do whatever I must to prevent you from inflicting more evil upon the galaxy, Your Highness." He spit out the last words, resolve swelling in his heart.

"Tut, tut, my boy." Incredibly, the Emperor waved a dismissive hand at him. "You poor, confused child. You are going to become one with me. It is your destiny." He smiled, the slitted yellow eyes devouring him. Feeding on his youth. "I have foreseen this. You, like your father... are mine."

"Never!" he cried, raising his saber, both hands wrapped around the grip. He didn't get the chance to bring it down. A single bolt of blue energy sprang from one of the Emperor's raised fingers and struck his right knee with deadly accuracy. He howled in outraged agony, falling to the floor as the strength was siphoned out of his leg. The bolt traveled through his calf and foot, leaving streams of smoke rising from his pants and boots. There were exclamations of terror from the gathered Rebel forces, and the stormtroopers readied their weapons.

"Now, now, my children. Your concern is appreciated, but the young Sith Lord is not grievously injured. One day he may even recover completely.

Luke raised his back off the floor, clutching his knee with both hands, rocking in torment. It was on fire, awash with the small of cooking flesh, burning into cinders-- yet it felt quivery, as though the bone had disintegrated. There was no substance left in the joint. He tried to rise onto the other knee, tried to get to his feet-- only to fall back in agony. He heard a cessation of the familiar humming and knew that his father had doused the ruby blade. It was no longer needed-- his own saber had skittered across the floor, its energy emptied.

The Emperor smiled down at him. "Come along, Luke. Join your father and me. We have important matters of state to which we must attend. Admiral Ackbar, shall we sign the documents of your surrender?"

Luke focused his blurring vision on the gray cloak as it swept away, feelings of failure overwhelming him again. More than failure-- now he was doomed. He, his friends, the galaxy. Matters were worse. He was a failure as a Jedi. Now he was even a failure as a martyr. A great menace seemed to overshadow him, and he raised his eyes wearily. Lord Vader stretched out one hand. Luke stared at it for a long moment, then reached up his fingers and slipped them into the black glove. _Father, help me, set me free-- kill me. I will not surrender to the Dark._

Vader pulled him to his feet, offering the strength of his arm. Luke leaned against it heavily, helpless to fight the raw, throbbing sensations that coursed through his leg. _Courage, my son._

Tears of pain and frustration fogged his vision, and he tried to blink them back. _Please, Father...I can't do any more. I always fail and I'm so tired-- _

_I know. Courage. Wait until the moment is right. We will triumph, my son. I promise you this._

Would there ever again be a right moment? He tried to walk, but his knee gave out with the first excruciating step. Somewhere behind him, he heard Leia cry out his name. Then pain filled his consciousness, wave upon wave of it battering his mind, and the walls of the bay began to spiral inward in every-tightening swirls.

Luke collapsed into his father's waiting arms.

* * *

**Vader**

It was unavoidable. But that recognition didn't make directing the torture of his son any easier. He found it disquieting that the suffering touching him. He had seen so much, done so much in his life-- he hadn't anticipated that one boy's miseries could affect him to such an extend.

When the last disciplinary sergeant left the cell, Vader remained. He made a conscious effort not to look up at the plex ceiling that served as the floor to the Emperor's chambers above. It had never been quite clear how many of his private thoughts Palpatine could sense, and that lack of knowledge had made him wary of displaying any act that could be construed as a weak or traitorous one. He had already taken a dangerous step by avoiding the use of mild-altering drugs on his son; now he wondered if the boy appreciated his charity in dispensing only physical torture.

Luke's head lifted from the pillow his arms had made. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, sliding away from his father until he found the support of a wall. His face was puffed with bruises, blood drying from a cut dangerously close to his left eye. Vader sensed pain resonating from him--the agony from the unattended leg wound-- despite the boy's ineffectual attempts to access Jedi healing powers.

He stood stiffly in the center of the cell. "You must give in to your destiny, Luke," he intoned, conscious of the Emperor's scrutiny.

An ironic smile twisted lips that were encrusted with both dried and fresh blood. "And which destiny would that be, Father? I seem to have several."

"There is only one destiny for you-- the Dark Side. Obi-Wan knew it to be true. Give in to the Dark, my son."

"Never." The spark was still there, the spirit he had sensed since the moment of the Rebel attack on the first Death Star. Resilient, but hopelessly bested by the powers of Palpatine. "I'll never give in!"

"Yes, you will." He raised his hand to stall the protest he knew to be forthcoming. "That is neither a warning nor a promise. Merely a statement of truth. The Emperor will discover the weakest part of your soul, and then he will use it to break you."

The boy shuddered. "You're saying that I should surrender before he breaks me? I won't-- "

"No. You cannot surrender. He will break you... once broken, you will no longer be a threat to him." Did the child understand what he was saying and what he couldn't say?

Luke sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. Something in that protective veneer softened when he looked at his father. "So you think I'm helpless. Then help me. I know you want to save me. I know there's still Good in you, Father. Doing this-- " the gesture included all his injuries, "-- meant nothing to you. I understand that."

No, the child didn't understand. It was too dangerous to send the thoughts, but there had to be some way to communicate. He crossed the small room and bent to raise the boy by both arms. He steered his son to the narrow bunk where Luke painfully lowered himself. "If this is not repaired soon, the damage may become permanent, young one. It will not be attended until after the Emperor breaks you."

Luke waited silently, body and mind relaxed. Receptive. As if the gentleness of the touch spoke to him more deeply than did the veiled words.

"My son-- "

"Lord Vader."

He slowly turned his head toward the communicator panel in the corridor. Pushed heavily to his feet. "Yes, my master."

"I find your parental concern most touching, but it is time to continue your son's lesson. Join me. I require your evaluation of our next step in his rejuvenation as a Sith."

The eyes that met his gaze were as pure and clear as moonstone crystal, lit with an inner fire that would soon be quenched. Vader scorned the Light side of the Force, for it was puny and weak; the corruption of young Skywalker would be its death blow. Yet somewhere deep inside him, he felt a small pang of regret for the galaxy's loss. Perhaps there was another way...

"You will break, my son. It is your destiny to rule." _With me,_ he added silently.

He felt Luke's stare following him long after he'd ridden the lift to the Emperor's chambers and joined his master at the circular viewing floor. Below them, the sweat-darkened blond head was bowed, but it raised immediately upon his arrival. The blue gaze strained to see through the tinted panels as Luke struggled to his feet. Palpatine flicked on the com.

"I applaud your stubbornness, young Skywalker. It is an indication of the greatness in your future... although it is inappropriate to use it against your beloved grandfather. Now witness my cure for your inappropriate behavior. I have, my disobedient offspring, discerned your most secret fear. Observe, Lord Vader, and learn your son's heart."

A score of rough men, both human and humanoid, entered the cell. Luke limped back warily, yielding the center of the room as indefensible, and taking up a position against the back wall. Something twisted in Vader's stomach. He had seen this before and didn't want to watch it happen to his son. He stepped away.

"Lord Vader." An order was not necessary; the tone of the words said everything. Palpatine had anticipated his weakness and savored the taste of it.

He moved firmly back in place, gaze focused on his son's crouched figure, reading the boy's feelings. There was resolution mixing with anxiety, giving way to panic as the focus of the attack was realized. Hands that had never learned sensitivity touched his child, ripping off the torn and stained clothing, gratifying obscene appetites for which even the Dark Lord of the Sith had never hungered. With sickening clarity, he felt the terror as easily as he heard the sobs and saw the futile struggles as Luke fought the mouths and flesh that feasted on him.

The Emperor laughed lewdly. "A virgin sacrifice is a special treat in these corrupt times, don't you agree?"

Disgust at the slavering lust swept over him, and his anger at his servitude increased a hundredfold. "Yes, my master, very special." In a subtle act of defiance, he nudged a shaft of his strength into his son's mind. Too light for Palpatine to sense, but it would be something for Luke to grasp as the vile acts were performed on his weakening body. His tentative support was seized with an intensity that made him instinctively draw back to save himself. For the short moment they were linked, he was one with his son and shared his feelings-- fear, pain, humiliation, rage, confusion_-- is this my deepest fear?--_ and, strangely, standing aloof from all the other perceptions, a cool, dispassionate calm.

"Good."

The single word was drawn out, slurred, and Vader's heightened senses plumbed the depths of it, seeking something he had not known before. An extend of depravity-- no, a repressed sexual desire that was focused at both him and Luke, brought about by their brief mind-touch. He suppressed a smile. So, there was another path. "Yes. However... " Deliberately, he allowed his reluctance to fill the Force.

The Emperor turned on him immediately. "You have a reservation about this lesson, Lord Vader?"

He tilted his head as if searching for the precise words. "Not about the lesson, my master, but about the... instructors."

Palpatine's lust energy cracked through the room. "Be more specific, my friend."

Vader turned toward the old wizard. "I am uncertain of my feeling, my master. I sense that it may be... jealousy."

"Aah." It was a hiss of pleasure. The Emperor's head tilted back, eyes closing, the expression on his face revealing images of exquisite fantasies. "He _is_ beautiful. The two of you, dark and light... But have you no moral qualms regarding incest, my son?"

The ground trembled beneath his feet. He strove to control his voice as he felt Palpatine's probes delve into his mind. "None... my master."

And so the seed was planted; all he could do not was wait to see if the roots took hold.

It seemed hours, though logically he knew it was not, that the assault on his son continued, and he waited in vain for the Emperor to dismiss him. Over the last twenty years he had become a consummate actor, accomplished in all manners of deceit. But he coveted no role in this salacious play. Hideous cowardice, well camouflaged, filled his heart, and he wanted desperately to flee from the ruinous scenes that unfolded. Finally, one by one, the violators of his child departed, replete with a satisfaction that seemed to fill the very air with lust. He felt a shifting in the balance of the Force, a darkening that indicated the death of a certain kind of innocence. But in his son that streak of defiance lived. Battered and bleeding like the boy himself, but still it existed. Vader briefly closed his eyes, bitterly regretting that the resistance held strong. If he had the power to reach unnoticed into the boy's mind and destroy it right then, he would have.

"You sense it too."

"Yes, my master." There was no profit in idle disagreement.

"Pity," the Emperor commented in glee-filled tones. "Still, there is at least one other he has not yet enjoyed." He raised a finger.

At first Vader couldn't make out the shape; when he did, his mind cringed in remembered horror. Luke responded to the violence of his reaction and tried to move his abused body away, but there was no sanctuary in his tiny enclosure. A gelatinous blob three times the size of a man pressed against the metal confines of the cage. It began to separate, oozing through the bars, pieces of it flopping to the floor, then crawling back to reform with the bulk of the monster.

_What is it? Father-- ? Father, help me!_

He tightened his control over the feelings that he emitted, then mocked himself for the action. As if not allowing the boy to know the intend of the monster would delay his knowledge by more than a few seconds. In a moment Luke would learn firsthand of its hunger.

The quivering mass touched Luke's bare foot and inched up his leg. Vader felt his son's revulsion at the touch and smell of the loathsome creature. Living gel squirmed around the knee and began to ooze into the raw wound with an eager sucking sound that made his own stomach clench. Hysteria was erupting at the remaining edges of Luke's fragile control. This would end the proud defiance, drain that well of calmness and strength. This would break young Luke Skywalker as it had so many others before him.

Different from the terror of being swallowed alive-- this creature was forcing the child to swallow it, the elementary mind sending directions with the instincts of a glutton. Vader knew every terrified thought, felt every petrified quiver of his son's body. In what he considered a sensible act of self-preservation, he severed their mental connection and observed the procedure with all the detachment he could muster. Despite its victim's frantic struggles, the depraved monstrosity slithered up the boy's legs and into his anus, curling into the intestines and transmitting slurpy, delighted sounds, traveling through the body with deliberate and immutable intent. There would be little pain, just this terrible, interminable invasion. Vader closed his eyes when his son's mindless screams turned into panicked gagging; he knew the sticky gel was filling Luke's mouth, traveling up his nostrils, curving lovingly into eye sockets. The creature's sole existence consisted of filling the most minute places in a human's body and feeding on the terror, then exiting leisurely, taking the space of a full day, leaving behind small, dead globules of gelatin to be vomited and excreted and choked out over more endless hours.

No permanent physical damage. That's what Palpatine had found so helpful with certain subjects. The psychological devastation, however, would never vanish. The son of Vader would be emotionally crippled for life. The experience was a travesty of a memory that he'd essentially conquered himself, but he'd seen the results in men less strong-- the uncontrollable horror fostered by an unexpected recollection, the unrelenting fear of being touched by another living creature. What must it be like to be so violated while still in the first blossoming of youth?

He sized the memory of the crystal eyes that had been him so clearly and stored it in the deepest recesses of his heart, because he knew that he would never see the same look again. Then he took a careful foray into his son's soul and sifted through the morass of fear and nausea. Found, to his pride and dismay, one slender filament of strength remaining. It was so fragile; it could be so easily torn. If Palpatine saw it--

He did the only thing he could. Now when the Emperor sensed his grandson's thoughts, he would find that one blessed thing had come of this nightmare: Luke was assuredly, irrevocably, broken.

Vader's scheme to destroy Palpatine could finally be put into motion.

* * *

**Leia**

The waiting was more difficult than an immediate execution would have been. Logically, she knew that as long as they still lived, there was a chance that they could form a viable plan no rescue themselves. To escape the Emperor's flagship, to return to whatever was left of the Rebellion, to save Luke from the fate that kept him separated from them, to save the condemned prisoners of war who were-- where?

In other words, to perform impossible miracles.

Leia sighed and leaned her head against Han's arm. Chewie mewled softly with sympathy.

"Yeah, I know. I'm worried about him, too." Han's eyes tracked the movement of Lando and Wedge as they paced the confines of the spacious cell. Moving in opposing directions, they occasionally had to make quick shifts to avoid collisions. "I wish to hell... " His voice trailed off.

"Damnit, Han, there's got to be something we can do!" Lando's words exploded out of his mouth in the forceful she'd come to associate with him. "Do you think the Emperor is still holding him prisoner or is he... dead?"

"I don't know," Leia answered. And she didn't, not anymore. It had been days, nearly a week, since she'd been able to feel Luke's existence. Before then his Force presence had been so strong, it had surprised her that none of the others had felt him. But now his presence had faded, and she could no longer tell if he was on this ship or somewhere else-- or even if he still lived.

Lando joined them on the narrow bench that served as the cell's only furniture aside from the small cots where they tried to sleep. He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. "I still can't believe it. Luke, the Emperor's grandson. It doesn't seem possible. He never gave any indication of-- "

"When you think about it, there was no one else it could have been. Luke was the--_is_ the last Jedi. I suppose Vader and Palpatine are-- What do you call fallen Jedi?" she asked curiously.

"Dark Lords of the Sith," Han commented succinctly. "Like our little buddy."

"That's not fair," Wedge objected softly.

Leia frowned at Han, but her scathing reply was aborted by the sound of marching feet echoing in the corridor, coming ever closer.

Seconds later, a phalanx of stormtroopers halted at their enclosure, Darth Vader acting as their leader. "The Emperor will see you now," he announced, sounding for all the worlds as if they'd just been granted the audience they'd long awaited.

"Oh, joy," Han muttered. "Another perfect ending to another perfect day."

Metal binders were slapped around their wrists, and they were marched single file to what was obviously the Emperor's throne room. It was vast and dark, with half its walls covered by monitors and maps. The other half consisted of wide portals that revealed the surrounding sky. Leia hadn't realized that they were traveling, but the star system outside was totally unfamiliar. How far had they come? This placed added difficulty on any escape plans they might formulate.

At the far end of the room was a wide staircase that narrowed as it rose to a second level. They were escorted up the stairs by Vader himself. At the top, flanked by panoramic portals, was an obsidian throne, ancient and dark as the Emperor himself. It turned slowly to reveal Palpatine hidden in its shadows.

"Welcome, my children." He gestured to a spot against the wall, and they lined up in a reluctant row. "Guards, leave us."

Vader took his place at the Emperor's right shoulder. It was then she noticed the two lightsabers hanging from his waist. One, in familiar burnished steel, was Luke's beloved Jedi weapon, stolen from him during his courageous but doomed stand against Palpatine. The sight of it depressed her more than it deserved, given the other, more catastrophic events of the last few weeks.

"I hope your accommodations are satisfactory. It will be a long voyage for you. Or a short one if your full cooperation is not forthcoming."

"In case you hadn't noticed, your high-and-mightiness, we're Rebels! That work itself means we don't cooperate with you!" Han snapped. "We know you're going to kill us-- so we're not going to cooperate with anything!"

"Damn straight we're not," Lando added.

No anger showed on the Emperor's ghastly, creased face; in fact, he smiled at them. "You misunderstand, my children. I would never punish you." He rotated the chair and gestured casually with his hand. "Come, boy, and be reunited with your comrades."

With a sinking feeling of dread, Leia swiveled her head toward the stairs. Luke stood at the bottom, looking up at them. He was clothed in the dashing ebony uniform of an Imperial solider, with black boots that glistened from an aide-droid's attentions, but no rank insignia decorated his collar. He looked so small and vulnerable; even from this distance, she could see that his face was bruised and slashed. He paused another moment, then placed one foot on the first step. Immediately she understood his hesitancy. The leg that they'd seen wounded weeks earlier by the obscene energy that had flowed from the Emperor had not been repaired.

On the first step, Luke's leg gave out, but he caught himself with one hand to the next level. Vader walked to the top of the stairs, and for a moment she thought that he would aid his son. But he just stood there watching, gloating over her friend's pain. She wanted nothing more than to rush over-- but she, as the other four captives, had clearly understood the Emperor's indirect threat. If they misbehaved, it would be Luke who would suffer.

By the time he'd struggled to the top of the flight, Luke's face was lightly beaded with sweat. She could see how his limbs trembled from the effort he'd expended to reach them. Mentally, she counted him out of any energetic escape attempt.

"Come stand by me, my young heir. You must help me decide the fate of your friends."

Luke limped to the throne, dragging his right leg in a manner that reflected great damage. Leia felt the tension in Han's arm muscles, saw the anger that tightened Lando's jaw. Behind her, Chewie growled threateningly, but from Wedge she could sense nothing except barely-controlled fear.

Luke raised his eyes to them for the first time, and Leia's heart plummeted. There was something so wrong, something more than his painful knee and his battered face. The eyes that had been drowning pools now reflected their images like a lake frozen in the heart of winter. But she could finally feel something-- and it was a horror too deep to comprehend. Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of it.

"Is he drugged?" Han asked roughly.

The Emperor's head lolled indolently. "Are you drugged, boy?"

"No, my master." His voice was a hoarse rasp-- she instinctively knew that repeated screams had scraped his vocal cords-- and the tone was hollow, devoid of emotions.

Leia's distress fueled an anger that couldn't be contained. "What have you done to him?" she demanded, directing the question at Vader as much as Palpatine.

"We have been educating him," Vader replied coldly. "I suggest you reform your manners, Princess, or you will receive the same education."

Palpatine chuckled. He stroked Luke's arm. "Have you enjoyed your education, boy?"

"No, my master," he replied tonelessly, his body going visibly stiff and tense at the touch.

Leia shivered. What indignities had they forced on him-- and how could she stop them from doing more?

"What a pity. Perhaps we can remedy that. Now, which aspect of your education was the least agreeable?"

That roused a barely perceptible reaction. Pale lips parted, but no words came out. Luke swayed. Vader stepped behind him.

"Shy, boy? No matter, I suspect I know the answer. But that experience would be much too messy to repeat here." Palpatine drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne. "Hmm... a new lesson may be needed. We've covered discipline. Respect for authority. Table manners. What's left? I have it!-- perhaps another sexual awareness exploration would please you."

Oh, the bastards. Somehow, in some unspeakable way, they'd used sex to hurt a boy whose idealistic innocence had never quite faded. Leia could think of no one of her acquaintance whose inexperience had equaled Luke's. He'd always radiated such a pure, virginal aura. She'd thought that sex would only come to him in partnership with an abiding love.

And now it was too late for him to have that chance. Maybe it was too late for him to accept love at all. If they'd destroyed that ability--

"You son of a bitch," Lando muttered under his breath.

Palpatine gestured for Luke to bend down to him. "Did you hear the buzzing of a small pest?" He cupped the boy's chin in his hand; it sent visible tremors through the small body.

"No, my master." When Luke straightened, blood ran down his neck. With a queasy feeling, Leia realized that the Emperor had dug his fingernails into Luke's flesh until they broke the skin.

"Good. I dislike pests. Now where was I?"

"Sexual awareness, my master."

"Ah, yes, thank you, child. Go stand before your friends."

Luke moved gracelessly until he was within a half-meter from her. Their eyes met, but whatever she had felt earlier was buried too deep to resurrect; now she could see nothing, feel nothing, read nothing. He was a cipher. All she knew was what the marks on his face revealed, and that was precious little.

"Does the princess arouse you, my grandson?"

Luke didn't reply. Leia felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Uncertain, eh? Kiss her and then answer me."

Luke leaned forward. His lips pressed against hers in a kiss so sexless that she mourned inside. When he drew back, trembling, there was still no expression in his eyes. Filled with compassion, she touched his arm. He recoiled as though scalded.

"No, my master." Luke's voice quivered. Thin streams of blood stained the uniform collar.

"I'm not surprised. Try General Solo next and tell me if he sexually arouses you."

Han stiffened, and she felt the swell of anger in him. "It doesn't mean anything," she whispered, pressing her fingers against his hand.

He turned and looked down at her. "Humiliating Luke means something to _me,"_ he said in a low tone, deliberately misunderstanding her.

"I fervently hope that I am not hearing another buzzing insect. Kiss and report, boy. I grow weary of repeating myself."

Han straightened and faced forward. Luke touched his lips with a kiss that was feather-light. "No, my master," he intoned when he finished.

"The Wookiee."

Leia cringed. Chewie was a sweetheart, but she couldn't imagine getting a mouthful of fur. Not that Luke would have a problem-- nothing would pass those tightly guarded lips. Luke didn't flinch. On tiptoe, he kissed the Wookiee and reported negative results.

"General Calrissian."

Lando surprised her-- or, upon reflection, perhaps not. He responded to the touch, returning what appeared to be a very gentle kiss to the boy. "It's all right, Luke," he whispered and gave him a furtive thumbs-up signal. "We're with you." There was no sign of acknowledgment from the younger man.

"Still no arousal, boy?"

"No, my master."

"Hmm." The Emperor appeared to ponder this problem. "Go to your friend Captain Antilles." Luke obeyed. "Disembowel him and eat his heart."

Before Leia could react to the words, a short, bright blade flashed and the deed was begun. She didn't attempt to stifle the scream that was torn from the deepest part of her soul. _Luke, Luke, noooo-- What have you done-- what have they done to you? Who are you now?_ Blood made thick spatters on the floor, and Wedge's limp body collapsed into them. He hadn't even had time to cry out. As she buried her face against Han's chest, shaking violently, she caught a glimpse of Luke. He was reaching into the gaping chest cavity and pulling out a handful of bloody muscle. It took all her strength not to shame herself by vomiting her sparse dinner on the floor.

Her breath came in hysterical gasps, and she felt the first tremors of shock rack Han's body. She surrendered to the sobs, trying to cover her ears from the sounds Luke was making, Chewie's roars, Lando's and Han's curses. The minutes dragged on. Finally:

"Well, boy? Did you discover that killing sexually arouses you?"

"No, my master."

She turned slowly, still learning against Han. Her knees were too weak to support the rest of her body without his strength, and her skin felt clammy and cold. Luke's gloves were drenched and his uniform was wet, but an even worse sight was his face. Mouth and cheeks were smeared with the lifeblood of Wedge Antilles, hero of the Alliance and their companion of many years. And the eyes, Luke's eyes-- he was impervious to the horror he's just committed. Perhaps that madness was for the best. Unless he was already lost...

_...the youngest Dark Lord of the Sith..._

"Luke, Luke, Luke." The Emperor shook his head, voice rising with glee. He gestured the boy back to his side. Grasping Luke's left wrist, he stripped off the black leather glove. guided the trembling hand to circle wet lips, smudge blood over white cheeks. Then Palpatine lazily slid the tips of the pale fingers into his own mouth, sucking each one clean in turn before releasing it. His lower lip was smeared with red. "Delicious. However, I am most disappointed in your responses. Surely there must be someone in the galaxy who can rouse your prurient instincts. Have you any suggestions?"

"Yes, my master." The voice quavered and tremors racked Luke's slight form.

"Ah, a positive response at last!" Palpatine's strange golden eyes glowed with unconcealed eagerness. "And who might that fortunate person be?"

The dark blond head turned slowly away from the Emperor. "My father, the Lord Vader," Luke whispered.

Leia swallowed the bitter taste that rose in her throat. Sickening corruption. How much further could it go? Han's fingers bit into her shoulders while waves of anger radiated from Lando. And poor Chewie shifted anxiously from foot to foot, yearning, like the rest of them, to kill the Emperor and Vader and rescue Luke from this hell before he plunged into its depths for all eternity.

"Show me, child."

_No, Luke! No more!_ she pleaded with him. But his Force must be so crushed that he could no longer read her mind, because he turned and stood before his father. Luke's hands rested on the Dark Lord's shoulders, slid down to the dull lights that winked on the broad chest, smearing more darkness on the black fabric. Faltered there. Vader remained as motionless as a statue carved from stone. Had he no feelings for his son at all?

"I see your problem, Luke. There seem to be no lips to kiss." The Emperor waved one hand. "Be creative, my beautiful boy. Satisfy your father's lust. You have learned how to give pleasure, have you not?"

Luke's head lifted toward the mask of his father's face. Slowly, slowly, he bent his good knee. Vader's left hand steadied him as he knelt. Two small hands-- one dark, one light-- curled around the wide black belt, thumbs moving in a lingering caress. Leia held her breath. Surely he wouldn't-- not in front of them--

In movements too quick for her to follow, the strained scene exploded. Great clashing noises, bright flashes of green and red, terrible screams, crackling bolts of that terrifying blue energy. She stumbled back, trying to refocused her eyes, as Han dragged her away. The Emperor was imprisoned where he sat, caught between two sizzling lightsabers: Vader's from above, its beam anchored through the scrawny neck, pinning it against the throne; and Luke's from below, buried in the Emperor's abdomen, slicing through both arms. The blue bolts shot wildly around the throne room, and both the captives and the Royal Guards fled back several meters. The hideous head was almost cut through, but still the evil lightning struck at father and son, irradiating them like exploding stars.

_Leia-- help! Push! Push, Leia, push!_

She didn't quite understand, but she knew that Luke needed her help. She tried to surrender herself and let him take what he wanted-- and she felt him size some part of her with a ruthlessness that left her shaken. Her added strength must have helped, because the fiery bolts gradually began to lose strength and disappear. When they were gone, her connection with Luke was brutally ended. He yanked his saber from the soft flesh and struggled to his feet. With terrifying ferocity, he wielded the saber on the Emperor's fading body. Screams of rage echoed through the royal chamber as he struck over and over, sparks flying as the blade glanced off the obsidian throne.

The lifeless head clung momentarily by a few thin tendons until one final, ferocious blow from Luke's lightsaber severed it; then the Emperor's body simply disappeared. All that remained was a thick robe draped limply across the throne. And still Luke struck at it relentlessly. Leia rose cautiously from behind the control console where they'd taken shelter from the firestorm. Tears of bitterness and rage were streaming down Luke's contorted face.

Vader doused his own saber. "Enough!" His voice thundered through the royal chamber. "Is this what you were taught, Skywalker?"

The blade stopped halfway through a downward stroke and hesitated in mid-air. Luke looked at his father for a long moment, then at his saber and at the Emperor's empty robes. His chest was heaving from exertion, his face streaked with blood and tears. Deliberately, he lowered his lightsaber and switched it off. "Didn't my performance please you?" The control in his voice that had been missing now returned even stronger than Leia had remembered, but his stance toward his father was blatantly aggressive. "Isn't this how you want me to be? Isn't this what you want--_ Father?"_

Vader approached him and put his large gloved hands on his son's shoulders. The gesture gave Leia a very peculiar feeling of fear. "It does not please me to see you betray yourself. I would rather-- "

"You want me to rule the Dark Side with you. It's what you said." Fury and confusion swirled around Luke; she felt the emotions smothering her in the same way she had felt the Emperor's evil.

Vader dropped his arms. "Perhaps we can rule together, Dark and Light. We can create an... equilibrium."

Leia's eyes narrowed. What trick was this? She felt similar distrust flowing from her companions. "What the hell is he up to?" Han muttered in her ear.

"'Bring order to the galaxy?' Maybe we can," Luke said, struggling to hold steadiness in his voice, "if I haven't lost the Light forever. But I've done so much-- "

"You've done nothing but rid the galaxy of a monster," Leia said sharply.

He lifted his head in her direction. "But in doing so, I've betrayed everything I-- " He stared at each of them, then turned his head, looking around. "Wedge?" he asked wildly. "Wedge? I didn't-- " The horror of realization dawned across his face, and he whirled on his father. "We-- ?"

"Your friend is dead. By your hand. He sacrificed his life so that the Emperor could be destroyed. There is no shame in that."

With a ghastly cry, Luke bent over his father's arm and gagged, bloody vomit spewing onto the floor. Leia allowed Vader grudging credit that he didn't pull away from the mess. He held his son until the retching spell was over. Luke's head shook in violent denial.

"I couldn't-- I couldn't have-- tell me-- how-- "

"You know why it had to be done," Vader continued, ignoring the stammers. He looked over at them. "The action was necessary to convince Palpatine that Luke was totally under his control. Whatever he had asked... Luke would have done without hesitation. It was our only hope."

It was almost as though Vader was asking forgiveness for his son. Was he saying that it was he, through Luke, who'd butchered Wedge? Or was he telling them that Luke had crossed over and left the Light behind? Leia refused to accept either interpretation. _You mean that Wedge died so you could use Luke's power to be Emperor, you bastard! You planned this-- it's why you kept us captive. You sacrified your son's beliefs-- destroyed everything he stood for-- to achieve your ambitions._

Both Luke and Vader turned toward her. The impenetrable black mask focused on Leia with interest, and her skin crawled. Luke's head swiveled between her and his father several times, then he sent her a mental shove full of such jealousy that she stepped backwards into Chewie.

"What's wrong?" Han asked in a low voice.

She shook her head. How could she answer him when she didn't fully understand herself? All she knew was that Luke's capability to love hadn't been destroyed-- but whatever torture had left him to afraid of human contact had also sent him running for the safety and comfort of this warped father-love. Luke's personal struggle was no longer clearly between Dark and Light, Empire and Alliance; those philosophies had become inextricably woven into his own yearnings for his prodigal father. She feared this was the one thing that could cause him to be truly lost to them. Filled with emotion, she reached up and stroked his matted hair. He gave a strangled cry and jerked away.

"He... cannot bear to be touched by anyone other than me," Vader murmured, his deep voice reflecting an odd mixture of regret and satisfaction. He looked down at the son he now cradled against his chest, then back at her. After a pause, his full attention returned to Luke. One gloved hand stroked the boy's hair. That tender gesture from a friend had been cruelly rejected; the father's same caress was accepted with pathetic gratitude.

Black fingers tightened in the damp strangs. "_We_ are Emperor now," the Dark Lord said softly. 

**End**


End file.
